Chance
by Val-Creative
Summary: An unlikely encounter leads Mari to a very beautiful woman needing a rescue. /Canon Era. MarixAnya. Oneshot.


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A bellyful of sangria and chopped oranges likely explains why Mari can't navigate herself around.

The air in Marseilles has an sea-salt kind of aroma, like back home except warmer and humid. Heavier with exhaust fumes and traffic. She's left a narrow set of lone roads, winding back to the commercial shoppes.

This area looks much more familiar. Her towering, golden hotel winking neon-lit in the distance.

She's very excited for Yuuri to make to another Grand Prix Final, and to be witness to it. In fact, him and Viktor and Yurio made it to the top finalist ranks for men's this year. It'll be a hell of a showdown.

Which is why Mari should try and sleep off any hangover before morning, but…

"— _little bitch!_ "

Her head whips around, spinning Mari's vision for a few seconds and clouding the nearby lamp-lights. A very tall and burly man catches onto another woman's arm, forcing her towards him and twisting his grasp painfully.

Two or three bystanders look towards them, and then bow their heads, marching away.

"Get _OFF_ of me, Liam! Stop it!" the woman yells, stumbling backwards on her high heels. When he untwists her arm and knocks her onto her ass purposely, Mari's alcohol-fueled brain makes a split-second decision.

By running down the sidewalk and putting her hands out, _shoving_ the man out of her path.

"Why don't you fuck off somewhere else, huh?" Mari says loudly. She's glad to stay upright the whole time doing this, _and_ isn't slurring any her words. "Take your ugly goatee with you."

The man's face goes a darkening shade of red.

"What the _hell_ did you say to me— _AAH!_ " he yelps out, when Mari grabs onto two of his fingers, yanking them back until she both hears and feels something pop out of place.

He sinks with his knees onto the ground, hollering with fat tears running down his face.

The other woman climbs onto her feet, standing beside Mari now. She gawks at her, those red, red lips parting open.

"Got something else to say?" Mari says threatening, feeling her satisfaction as he retreats, covered in mud. She wobbles in place for a moment, feeling an arm hugging hers. It's _tiny_ and skinny like a dancer's compared to Mari's own thicker, muscular arm. "Sorry, sorry… I'm… a little drunk."

"Why did you do that?" the woman asks, frowning.

"It's not like anyone else was gonna do something about it…" Mari glares at the closest bystander who scoffs and clutches their handbag to themselves, hurrying away from the scene. She takes a deep, steadying breath, glancing back to the other woman. "I'm used to getting rough with people… when I need to."

"I'm used to assholes, so there's that."

Mari nods, grunting out. She digs for her cigarettes, gesturing out with a peeled-open box. The other woman then smiles, tucking a wavy, dark brown hair over her pale pink earlobe. "Thanks," she whispers, tucking the cigarette into the corner of her lipgloss-shiny mouth. "And for scaring him off. I'm—"

"Anya Morozov. You left competing this year for Ladies' Single because of a injury that's stealing healing…" At the hesitant look, Mari shrugs. "Sorry, my younger brother is in the Grand Prix Final… I know a lot."

"Guess so," Anya replies with a fainter smile, blowing out a ring of smoke.

"You weren't dating that _kusojiji_ , were you?"

"Not anymore," she admits, laughing. It sounds deep and bitter. Mari doesn't resent her for it. Anya's mud-flecked arms cross against her breasts. "I came to see a friend at the Singles. She invited me."

Likely it's Mila Babicheva, Mari thinks to herself. Both of them are Russian and trained together in their early years. God, she sounds like a clusterfuck of her ice-skating, _Viktor_ obsessive brother and Minako.

And honestly… it doesn't bother her _at all._

Anya's smile widens, revealing the obvious and dainty gap between her pristine-white front teeth. Mari gets the impression that Anya hasn't had the opportunity in forever.

" _Thanks again_."

The sensation of lips smearing red, red gloss, smacking a quick and puckering kiss against Mari's cheek.

Anya vanishes within the hazy shroud of cigarette smoke.

But, hopefully, not _forever_.

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 _Yuri On Ice isn't mine. HAPPY YOI WEDNESDAY! We've been at this for a while, haven't we? It's still Femslash February, and I'm back with more! :) I didn't really ever consider Anya/Mari until I started writing it out of nowhere, but I think I like the outcome of this? I saw "Any/Any + rescuing the other" out of the Yuri On Ice Kink Meme so why not? I hope people get curious and decide to read this! Any thoughts/comments are so so so appreciated!_


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